Disclaimer: © 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus had no idea what Lucius was planning, but he knew that there was a plan and that it was very unlikely to include earnest civility toward the two Muggleborns. From the moment he and Grace had stepped through the gates, which had admitted them without protest, Severus knew he would need to be on his guard. Certainly Hermione's presence, which Lucius had forced with obvious tactics that would only work once on the clever woman, indicated that Lucius's plotting would likely come to fruition during their lunch.

Lucius's first shot across the bow was the elegant table that awaited them on the terrace. There must have been two dozen pieces of cutlery and five glasses at each place. Even Severus, who had dined at the manor for decades, had never seen some of the obscure pieces of silver and bone that surrounded the china and crystal. He'd never seen this set of china, either, which surprised him with its understated handsomeness. It was far more modern than any he'd seen at the manor, which made him wonder if Lucius hadn't purchased entirely new dishes and tableware so the Muggleborns wouldn't sully his best.

Severus caught Hermione looking at the place settings through narrowed eyes, but to his surprise she allowed Lucius to seat her without comment. Lucius, damn the man, was eyeing Grace in a way that would make anyone nervous. He'd done his best to prepare Grace for what could happen, but a plotting Lucius was an unpredictable Lucius.

Fortunately, both Muggleborns seated themselves without the looks of panic that lesser witches would have betrayed upon surveying the expanse of gleaming cutlery. Grace even managed to give a small smile, and Severus marvelled yet again at her unflappability and loveliness. He hoped that her nervous silence would give way soon, and that his friend, too, would be won over, if not by her charm, than by the toughness that her delicate-looking exterior belied. However, Lucius had already "dropped" his serviette twice, which didn't bode well for anybody.

At length, Lucius spoke. "Miss Ling," he said in a warm voice, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. You have made quite an impression on my dear friend, and I wish you both the greatest happiness." He raised his water glass in salute.

Grace darted a glance at Hermione, and the two shared a look of understanding. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Grace replied. "Severus has told me about you, and I thought he'd exaggerated your charms. But I don't think he did at all."

Lucius preened visibly before demurring and gave the tiniest nod of approval, which Severus assumed was for his benefit. "Please, call me Lucius. All my friends do, and I do hope that we will be friends, Miss Ling."

The slightest movement of Hermione's shoulders indicated that she was stifling a cough. Fortunately, neither Grace nor Lucius noticed it.

"I hope so," said Grace. She still sounded cautious, which was the correct response when Lucius was at his most charming.

"So, tell me about yourself, Miss Ling," said Lucius. "I hear you're something of an entertainer. That must be endlessly diverting."

Grace launched into her life story, albeit a version with far fewer details than the version she'd given him, which made Severus inordinately pleased. Lucius also seemed to be behaving himself, and exclaiming "oh!" and "how marvellous!" at appropriate times. When Grace finished describing the circus arts school where she taught, the first course arrived.

"I hope you will forgive my elves' attempt at reproducing the cuisine of your youth," said Lucius.

Severus felt his stomach drop when the lid of the salver that had been placed in front of Grace was raised to reveal a steaming pile of scaly, pointed feet. They must have originated from some kind of bird or reptile, and the ridged skin looked like rubber. Hermione, who looked as revolted as he felt, glared darkly at their host. Lucius, however, smiled charmingly at Grace, who beamed back at him.

"They smell delicious," said Grace, spooning herself several. "Just like home. I can hardly wait to try them."

"Then by all means, eat," said Lucius, taking the salver from her. "Please don't wait on our account."

Grace passed the salver to Lucius and picked up one of the dreadful-looking things with the set of bone chopsticks that lay between the salad and fish forks and popped it into her mouth. She gave an appreciative, close-mouthed smile, which she covered charmingly with her hand, and began to chew.

Severus chanced a direct glance at Lucius, who was watching the proceedings with a polite smile. Hermione, on the other, was clearly trying to stifle a grimace.

"Mmm!" Grace hummed contentedly, spitting three knuckle bones into her fingers and placing them on the edge of her plate. A few seconds later, all the bones from the foot were on the plate, and she was dabbing her lips daintily with her serviette. "Your elves did a very good job, Lucius," she said. "I haven't had chicken feet like that in years!"

"I'm delighted you enjoyed them," said Lucius. "Won't you have more?"

At that point, Grace seemed to notice that Lucius had not taken any for himself and that Hermione was looking slightly green around the edges. Damn Lucius for putting her in this situation!

Grace covered the pile of bones on her plate with her serviette. "Thank you, but I-"

"Then pass them here," said Severus gruffly, grabbing the salver and serving himself a foot. Clearly, the tendons and skin were what one was supposed to eat, but his stomach lurched at the idea of putting the whole thing into his mouth. Instead, he picked up an oyster fork and fish knife and methodically dissected the foot, shoving all the bones to the edge of the plate. He scraped all the connective tissue into a pile and delivered it to his mouth with a demitasse spoon that he suspected would not see use. The bite was chewy, but not wholly unpleasant to taste.

Hermione was looking at him in fascinated though slightly disgusted awe. The corners of Grace's eyes crinkled with amusement at his performance. He felt his shoulders relax infinitesimally. Grace refused to be embarrassed, despite Lucius's valiant attempt. The man himself had launched into the amusing anecdote about the Ministry official and the centaur that he always told to distract dowagers from attempting to set him up with their unmarried daughters at his social events. Severus discreetly closed the salver of chicken feet, which disappeared along with the plates of bones, and bowls of soup appeared noiselessly before them.

To Severus's relief, the bowls contained a thick onion soup that looked wholly European. He gratefully raised his soup spoon and took a bite. The broth was delicious and rich. Clearly, some quite decent brandy had gone into it. He nodded at both ladies, and they followed his lead before Lucius had delivered the punch line.

The ladies laughed, Grace with genuine amusement, and Hermione with politeness, and Hermione had clearly decided that sometimes onion soup was simply onion soup. Throughout the soup course, Lucius peppered Grace with questions about her family and the school where she taught, and she flushed with pleasure at his interest. He also feigned dropping his napkin again for reasons that Severus couldn't even begin to fathom. However, as the level of soup in Grace's bowl dropped, her face became redder. It wasn't until she dropped her spoon with a clatter that Severus realized what Lucius had done.

Lucius must have spiked the soup with brandy just prior to serving, which meant that the soup had aggravated the sensitivity to alcohol that was common among Asians. Hermione seemed to have realized this at the same time. "Lucius," she said lightly, discreetly handing Grace her glass of water. "I think a bit of bread would go very well with this soup, don't you?"

"Merlin forbid," said Lucius. "Bread is rarely seen in the best houses nowadays. Less bread and more taxes are all the rage."

"Lucius," growled Severus, who was in no mood for Lucius's fop act, "if you do not provide us with proper English fare that has been properly prepared immediately, you will regret it."

"Now, Severus, there's no need to vex yourself," said Lucius soothingly. "The elves are putting the finishing touches on something indisputably English. I'm terribly sorry the soup wasn't to your taste. Narcissa always encouraged the elves to be somewhat free-handed with the cognac."

Grace, whose whole face had gone flaming red, glared at him through narrowed, watery eyes. "Your apology is accepted in the spirit that it was given," she said with perfect civility.

"You are too gracious, madam," said Lucius, clapping his hands gently. A basket of crusty bread appeared, and the women took one slice each. Severus was pleased to see that both ladies chose the appropriate knife; no small feat, since Lucius had laid out both left-handed and right-handed butter knives amidst an array of fruit, fish, and steak knives.

Lucius was watching them with only the tiniest expression of disappointment. Severus tried to catch his eye, but Lucius deliberately turned from him to engage Hermione in idle chatter about his grandsons.

Severus slid his hand under the table and squeezed Grace's hand. She gave him a slightly crooked smile and squeezed back. He gave a small sigh of relief. She would be fine. She'd be better than fine once she had a proper handle on Lucius. He wholly expected this to take some time, but he was startled a few moments later when Grace's mellow voice made a comment that was clearly intended to be overheard.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Ling," said Lucius. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing important, Lucius," said Grace, giving a gamine bat of the eyelashes that Severus knew he would be powerless to resist when directed at him, "I was merely expressing my surprise that you were unmarried. It seems like a terrible waste."

"Many others would agree," he said, sighing dramatically. "But I'm afraid I've rather got used to the bachelor lifestyle. It suits me far better the second time around."

"I and many others are delighted to hear it," said Hermione, taking a sip of water.

"Really?" asked Severus. "Given the popularity of Crups, I would think there were any number of witches with a penchant for housebreaking ill-mannered pets."

Grace giggled.

Lucius gave Severus a charming smile. "It seems to me that most aspiring pet owners are not looking for a companion so much as something to fuss over and teach to respond to commands. It's a role to which certain breeds are ill-suited, though it may do well enough for a creature incapable of seeing to its own needs."

"Domesticated animals are bred to be dependent upon their owners," observed Hermione. "I'm afraid the comparison is not entirely apt."

"On the contrary, Mrs. Weasley," said Lucius, "I find it very apt indeed. In less enlightened times, witches were taught to be entirely dependent on their husbands, socially and financially, and one need only look at a Muggle newspaper to see that the loathsome custom has persisted even more stubbornly in the Muggle world than in the Magical one. But even in our modern times, marriages are still hobbled by these ancient traditions. As I have no desire to be someone's master or someone's dog, I shall be content to be my own master, responding only to the commands I wish and enduring only the fussing that I choose."

While Severus disagreed with his friend's characterisation of marriage, he couldn't help but admire the friendly, almost light-hearted tone in which it was expressed. Grace seemed off-balance once more, which Severus supposed had been Lucius's intent. Hermione, on the other hand, answered in kind.

"I find myself torn between amusement that one from such an old family as yours holds such a dim view of traditional marriage roles and horror at your cynicism."

"Cynical it may be, but not incorrect," said Lucius, offering Hermione another piece of bread.

She waved off the basket, but looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. "When I go into a shop to buy bread, the transaction is considered fair and equitable despite the fact that the baker has more bread than I do. Similarly, a marriage can still be equal if its participants are not evenly matched in all ways."

"What you have described is a very specific and well-defined business transaction," said Lucius. "A marriage is not so simple."

"Some would argue that marriage is an amalgam of equally well-defined exchanges," responded Hermione mildly.

"Regardless, your example is entirely too simplistic. What if your baker started nagging you to buy the expensive bread instead of your usual loaf? You would simply take your business elsewhere."

"Possibly," conceded Hermione, "but if I'd chosen an excellent bakery, it would be hard to find another good enough to make the change worth it. I would also consider that perhaps the baker was making the recommendation because he thought I'd like the expensive bread more, not simply to make money. And if it turned out not to be the case, I'd simply ignore the nagging unless it turned out to be part of a bigger problem."

"Such as if you walked in one day to find the bakery closed because he'd run off with another customer?" asked Lucius, in velvety tones that made Severus tense.

Hermione shrugged. "Any social contract means compromising one's freedom, which creates a risk for both parties. Any time I buy bread, I choose to give the baker money rather than counterfeit currency or simply walk out without paying. For his part, the baker chooses to sell me bread that's made with flour and yeast, rather than something cheaper that could also poison me. Any number of horrible things might happen, and it would be tragic if it did. But I'm not going to stop buying bread simply because something awful might happen."

"And when was the last time you bought bread, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Lucius, who was casually buffing his fingernails on the sleeve of his robe.

Severus pursed his lips in disapproval. Lucius must be very off balance to make a direct attack on Hermione. Grace had also gone very still.

He was relieved when Hermione gave Lucius a sunny smile. "Two decades more recently than you have, Mr. Malfoy," she said briskly. "And I am simply up to my elbows in dough. I am in no hurry to form an exclusive business arrangement. I think we both understand the price of bread, these days. Perhaps it's just that I have a more generous notion of its value."

Lucius turned from Hermione to Grace and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I don't know about you, but I would value something a bit more fun than bread."

Severus was pleased to see that his scowl was superfluous since Grace was proving to be a master of noncommittal smiles. "I should be most interested to hear what you have in mind."

"The next course, naturally," said Lucius so earnestly that Severus knew it was meant to discomfit anyone at the table who'd perceived his flirtation for what it was. Fortunately, after the most recent discussion, both women seemed inured to Lucius's attempts.

Plates of cold chicken salad appeared before them, and they began to eat. Severus was relieved that there appeared to be nothing in this course to embarrass or sicken Grace. Her face was still red, but it was less bright than it had been. Hermione, he noticed, was watching Lucius with a very close eye, and Lucius was content to pretend he didn't notice. They ate their food in silence for a few minutes, and Severus had the distinct feeling that this was the calm before Lucius's next offensive.

Grace caught his eye, and he felt his stomach tighten to see a glimmer of mischief. He sighed, and rolled his eyes heavenward, which he knew Grace would take for the approval that it was.

"That was delicious, Lucius" said Grace, once she had finished her salad.

"I'm delighted you enjoyed it, Miss Ling. It was one of my mother's favourite dishes to serve at outdoor luncheons."

The blandly polite response was clearly an invitation to change topics, which Grace did with a deferential bob of her head before addressing Hermione.

"Hermione, I can't thank you enough for introducing me to Severus," said Grace. "We've known each other for less than a day, and already it's clear to me that we are well matched."

Severus didn't say anything, but he allowed his face to reflect the pleasure he felt at her statement. He and Grace had discussed marriage lying in bed that morning, and he was pleased by the confirmation that Grace was, like him, not one to indulge in idle pillow talk.

"There's no need to thank me, Grace," said Hermione, "though I am glad you're pleased. It is very gratifying to see two people of whom I think highly happy together."

"I imagine a job like yours is full of satisfaction of that sort," said Grace.

"It can be," said Hermione. "Frankly, not all of my clients are looking for the sorts of relationships that will make them happy, and in such cases, all I can do is find them someone else whose goals are in line with theirs."

"Gold diggers," said Severus dismissively.

"There will always be those, as well as older men who want beautiful young wives," agreed Hermione.

"Do you get repeat business from the beautiful young wives once they are no longer young?" asked Severus.

Lucius tapped his wand on his white wine glass, and all the similar glasses on the table were filled. "Only if their late husbands provided generously for them, I should think," drawled Lucius.

Severus found the comment to be rather gauche, but Grace piped up before Hermione could respond.

"What about sugar daddies who later realize they want more than a pretty face?" she asked.

"I doubt such men exist," said Lucius. "A wealthy man who wishes to surround himself with beauty is unlikely to change when interested beauties are in such ready supply."

"You'd be surprised how many wealthy men are able to make their own definitions of beauty more inclusive once they themselves have been abandoned for someone younger," said Hermione acerbically. "I daresay it's an overdue lesson in many cases."

Severus went very still. Hermione couldn't possibly have known the details of Lucius's divorce. Had Narcissa not made her offer to wait a year before marrying her younger paramour in exchange for a publicly amicable mutual separation behind a closed door in his vicinity, even Severus wouldn't have known.

"Perhaps they'd be more able to maintain their partner's fidelity if they had cultivated talents other than accumulating wealth," observed Lucius.

"Such as a Machiavellian disdain for marriage?" asked Grace.

Severus blinked in surprise. His cat had delightfully sharp claws. Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. Lucius betrayed no response other than adopting a bored and condescending tone of voice.

"Conversation, for one," he said. "Developing interests beyond the business sphere, or a talent for pleasing one's partners. Keeping oneself fit. Any number of things, really."

Grace gave a small cough. It wasn't a loud cough or a derisive cough, merely a neutrally interrogative cough that clearly asked how well that strategy had worked for Lucius.

Severus was both gratified and sympathetic to see the superior expression fall from Lucius's face. He was master of himself enough not to flush or frown, but clearly the cough had hit its mark. Severus kept his own expression neutral, but he couldn't bring himself to feel too bad for his friend. Lucius had brought this upon himself, and Severus was savagely proud that Grace had managed to turn the tables when Lucius wasn't expecting it, simply by reading his body language.

Hermione's eyes widened as she caught the implications of their nonverbal communication and she cleared her throat. "Lucius is entirely right that if partners would put more effort into pleasing their spouses, far fewer marriages would end in divorce," said Hermione diplomatically, laying her salad fork in the centre of her plate. "But sometimes after years of having and raising children, some partners find that they have grown apart but were too busy to notice it happening, and that can't really be blamed on one partner's shortcomings."

Lucius's expression darkened. The defence was clearly unwelcome.

"If they had been truly equal partners along the way, they wouldn't have grown apart," said Lucius shortly. "They would have grown in the same direction. And this is why, my dear Hermione, your bakery analogy can only represent the sort of role-bound union that I find anathema. Buying bread cannot be symbolic of an equal marriage unless the customer occasionally makes bread for the baker."

"A marriage is made up of two different people," responded Hermione, "and no two people react to things the same way. And I don't agree that a couple must share everything in order for it to be an equal marriage. Personally, I can't stand cooking, but Ron was very good at it."

"Did it not bother you that he had sole dominion over nourishing your family?" asked Lucius, with uncharacteristic intensity.

Severus frowned. What on earth was Lucius talking about? Whatever it was, Severus sincerely doubted that it had anything to do with cooking.

Fortunately, Hermione seemed to understand Lucius's question and answered in kind. "Of course it didn't," she said. "In fact, playtime with the children while Daddy made supper was one of my favourite times of day."

Lucius mulled this over for a moment. "You were fortunate that your situation allowed you that time with them," he said at last, his bland façade firmly in place. He placed his own fork in the centre of his plate, and a new plate, roast lamb and julienned carrots, appeared before them.

Severus was still trying to determine what had upset him when Lucius broke the silence that had descended upon the arrival of the lamb.

"Tell me, Mrs. Weasley. What sort of wife would you choose for me?" The question could have caused another round of argument, but for the good humour with which it was asked. The whole table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I wouldn't presume to choose," said Hermione loftily.

"Surely you still appreciate an academic exercise?" asked Severus.

The corner of Hermione's mouth was twitching upward. "It's true, finding the right partner for one of the defiantly single is a task in which some marriage brokers take particular pleasure. However, I feel too responsible for my clients, even the gold-diggers, to risk them having their hearts broken by Mr. Malfoy."

"I say, Mrs. Weasley, that's hardly generous," protested Lucius, clearly unoffended and welcoming a return to lighter discussion.

"Well, it shows more business acumen to be more generous to those who have already retained my services than to one who has sworn not to, don't you agree?"

Lucius's grey eyes were shining. "All this talk of gold-diggers has fundamentally aroused my curiosity. Mrs. Weasley, would you do me the honour of finding me a wife?"

"You are fortunate that your library can provide me with suitable payment," she replied easily. "I should never take you on, otherwise. Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You shall have a wife."

"That's all?" he asked in mock surprise. "No lengthy private interview? Dear me, how am I to be convinced that you'll find someone suitable?"

"My dear Mr. Malfoy," she said with a surprisingly winsome smirk, "just what do you think our earlier conversation accomplished?"

"Touché," replied Lucius, raising his glass in salute.

She acknowledged it with a tilt of the head. "Now, Severus, what are your and Grace's plans for the immediate future?"

"We are to be married once we have determined whose country is more generous to foreign spouses," said Severus. "We are fortunate enough to live in an age of instantaneous communication, and I will be able to conduct my business affairs from anywhere in the world."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Yes, splendid," echoed Lucius. "Are you planning to keep the vicarage?"

"I doubt it," said Severus. "Even if we end up living in England, Grace will need to be close to an international Portkey station in order to visit her parents often. We'll live in London, I expect. I've been selfish to keep the house for as long as I have, knowing that you have three grandsons who may wish to settle near the Manor."

"I am glad to hear it," said Lucius. "I hope you will join me in drinking to your happiness. Miss Ling, you'll find that your glass contains grape juice and not wine."

They toasted and drank, and Grace was surreptitious enough about sniffing the contents of her glass before drinking that even Lucius couldn't find fault. In fact, Lucius's behaviour for the rest of the meal was so exemplary and charming that Severus dismissed the niggling suspicion that Lucius was still upset about something.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~